Centuries and Seconds
by The Lightning Flash
Summary: A series of ficlets inspired by the prompts created by fans, for fans. I hope to work my way through all of them. Gunther/Jane, Jester/Jane, Gen.
1. Miscellany 1

**Disclaimer: Jane and the Dragon and all related characters are the property of Martin Baynton, Weta, and Nelvana.**

**A/N: These ficlets are all over the shop, and follow no particular rules of length or setting. Some are future-set, one is modern-day . . . I hope you enjoy them anyway. A thousand thanks to Kris and OtakuChild for being my betas. Check our Kris' prompt fics too, and why not write some of your own? The prompts can be found on the Jane and the Dragon forum.**

--

_Blade_

"Now," Jane's voice brooked no argument as she held the blade towards him, but Gunther was determined to try anyway.

"But I like it!" He stroked his stubbled chin with one hand, and offered her a smirk.

Jane simply rolled her eyes. "Nice try, Beef-head, but if you ever want to come near me again you will go and shave this instant. Your precious prickles bring me up in a rash."

Gunther sighed, defeated, and meekly accepted the blade.

--

_Cradle_

In his mind her hair is long and dark, her skin soft and pale. She speaks gently, and tells him she loves him. It is always night, there in his mind where she is, and his father doesn't exist anymore. He doesn't really know what she looked like, or how she sounded, but sometimes he thinks he remembers her smell, and how it felt to be cradled in her warm arms.

--

_Fall_

"This is so embarrassing," Jane muttered for the third time, head lowered in case he caught sight of her blush.

Gunther just laughed, and tossed her lightly in his arms, making her clutch at his sleeve. "It might teach you to watch where you are walking, and also what you eat! I am not sure I could carry you if you weighed much more."

Jane's head snapped up in anger, but Gunther simply tossed her again, a little higher this time, proving his words to be a lie. Feeling her blush growing, Jane punched his arm, and Gunther laughed harder, until she was worried he'd drop her for real.

--

_Song_

Jane was beginning to wonder if the castle was haunted. Just that morning she had heard a strange song coming from the stables. But when she had gone to investigate, there was only Gunther, cleaning out the stalls and complaining.

--

_Blind_

Every now and then Gunther Breech would turn up for gym class later than everyone else, after getting changed alone in the locker room. He'd slip quietly into class, and sit on a bench over the back until Mr. Mackay would yell at him for slacking off. Then he'd move slowly onto the court and try to dodge whatever activity was scheduled for the day until Mr. Boarmaster would call him over and lift the hem of his shirt up just enough to reveal the ugly bruises underneath. Then Mr. Mackay would yell at him for fighting, and Gunther would shove his way out of the gym, the shout of "detention!" ringing behind him.

As her classmates snigger beside her, Jane can't help wondering if she's imagining things, or if everyone else is blind.

--

_Memory_

Jane twirled the stem of the flower in her hand. It was dead and dry and fragile, and a petal fell off and floated onto the sand as she watched, Dragon's shadow passing overhead.

"_Daisy?" The offer was a tentative one, but there was no mistaking that the flower was meant for her. "For luck."_

_Jane had blinked in surprise as she accepted the delicate blue flower, before smiling as she looked at it more closely. "Forget-me-not, Gunther."_

"_Of course," Gunther sounded confused. "None of us will."_

_She was caught in a cuddle by Pepper before she could explain what she meant, and when she looked again Gunther was gone._

Jane gently tucked the flower back into her pouch before standing up and brushing the sand away. She looked in the direction of home and smiled, before turning and walking towards Dragon.

--

_Poison_

Jester's role as royal food-taster was _apparently_ a dangerous one, as he sampled each dish that was set before the king to check for poison. But watching Jester leave the hall each mealtime happily patting his stomach, Gunther couldn't help being envious of the job.

--

_Heat_

To him, Jane was heat. She was dragonflame and anger, fiery passion and hot strength. She was a beacon in his cold life, and sometimes all he wanted was to bask in her warmth.

--

_Names_

Jester couldn't help noticing that as the years went on, the names stayed the same but their meanings seemed to change.

--

_Never and Always_

They would never be friends, but they would always be there for one another.

They could never agree, but they were always united against their enemies.

They would never be lovers, but they always held each other as if there was no one else.

They would never admit it, but they would always rely on each other.


	2. Years

_Years_

Years. It had been _years_, and now this. Jane would have laughed if only it wasn't so hard not to cry.

"How embarrassing," she muttered, swiping at her cheek and leaving a bloody trail.

"Think you . . . have it bad?" Gunther gasped, a red froth forming at the corners of his mouth.

Their last words had been angry ones, hurtful and stupid, and then she had flown off on Dragon and not seen him since. Now he lay bleeding to death in the middle of a battlefield with a lance through his chest, and she was kneeling in the mud beside him, with no idea what to do.

"Should I pull it out?" She grasped the lance, eager for something to do with her hands.

Gunther grunted with pain. "Please . . . do not. This death . . . will be messy enough . . . as it is."

Jane pulled her hands away, clenching them in the mud, instead. "Do not say that! I- I am not finished with you yet!"

Gunther's laugh turned into a cough, and he spat out blood. "Too . . . bad. As the . . . dying person here . . . I can say . . . whatever I wish."

His teeth were red when he smirked, but it was still his smirk, and Jane had to smile.

"You always were a boghead," she said, without malice. "A stupid, stubborn boghead."

"And you . . . were always a . . . grumpy, bossy . . . beautiful beefbrain."

He erupted into another fit of coughing, and Jane sat silently watching as his hand grasped at the mud before clutching it between her own hands.

"I can . . . say it now," he gasped out eventually. "Because . . . even if . . . you want . . . to kill me . . . someone else has . . . beaten you to it." And there was that smirk again, and more blood. "You were . . . right . . . most of . . . the time. About . . . me." His hand squeezed hers. "You were right . . . that day . . . we fought."

They had fought most days, but Jane knew which one he meant. "No I wasn't." She shook her head. "We were both stupid that day, and every day after it. We should have tried to—"

"Shut . . . your mouth. I was . . . stubborn and stupid . . . because I knew . . . that you . . . were right." He paused and closed his eyes, and Jane froze with fear until he spoke again. "I am . . . sorry. Thought . . . there was . . . still time." He didn't smirk this time, but smiled, even though it wavered. "But now . . ." He gasped painfully and opened his eyes to meet hers. "I am . . . dying. Jane."

Jane bowed her head as she finally accepted his words. "I am sorry, too, Gunther. So sorry . . . ."

"I am . . . glad you . . . found me. I was . . . afraid I would . . . die alone."

He was still afraid, Jane could tell, but she had no words that could change that, so she stayed silent.

"Take . . . me home . . . Jane. Tell them . . . I was . . . not so . . . bad." His grip on her hand tightened for a moment, and Jane squeezed back.

"I promise, I swear it, I will take you home."

She stayed there holding his hand until the life was gone from him, and on until Dragon found them. And then she took him home.

**A/N: Oooh, angsteh. :P Thanks again to Kris and Otaku!**


	3. Miscellany 2

**A/N: All original disclaimers and gratitudes still apply.**

--

_Black and White_

His armour was black, his huge warhorse white, and the sky had turned his eyes grey. Jane had to marvel at the irony of it all, before the war horns sounded, and arrows sighed, and he was just another spot on a battlefield far below.

--

_Shades of Grey_

She was a nice spot of colour in his drab grey days, with her fiery hair and apparent fetish for brightly coloured scarves. He'd glance up from his paperwork at promptly ten am, twelve noon and three pm, and there she'd be, strolling past his office without a care in the world. On particularly trying days he'd have to stop himself from watching the clock, waiting for that brief happy moment before his assistant would bring him a coffee and more work, and life would return its usual shades of grey.

--

_Red_

Jane watched, horrified, as her mother licked her thumb and then used it to wipe a mark off Gunther's cheek. She felt her face turn crimson with embarrassment as Gunther looked up, startled, and stared at the lady-in-waiting. Embarrassment turned to something far more painful as Gunther smiled, and thanked her mother, even as a slight blush found its way to his face, too.

--

_Letting Go_

Wind whipping his hair madly around his face, Gunther clung tightly to Jane, his legs wrapped firmly around Dragon's neck.

"This is madness!" he yelled over the rushing of the wind. "I could have walked!"

Jane's hair brushed his face as she laughed, and Gunther felt his cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.

"I am not afraid!" he insisted.

"Of course not!" Jane yelled back, laughter still in her voice.

Gunther scowled. Fine then. Taking a deep breath, he let go of Jane, fighting not to squeeze his eyes closed. The wind tugged at him insistently, but his grip on Dragon didn't loosen, and he began to relax, until Dragon spun into a loop-de-loop. Gunther hoped Jane's whoops of joy drowned out his cry of alarm as he quickly grabbed hold of her again.


	4. Miscellany 3

**A/N: It's Kris' birthday! Give her love and cake. And she was my sounding board as usual, so thanks m'dear, and have some Kiddie!Gunther.**

_Prison_

He _must_ have a mother, because even his father's sailors spoke of their mothers, and they were far smellier than him, no matter what the other children said. Everything had a mother; even _pigs_ had mothers, and they sat in mud.

And if his mother was not here, looking after him like mothers should, then it was only because she could not be. And if she could not be, then it was because someone was stopping her. Perhaps his mother was held prisoner in a tower by an evil dragon, because she was actually a princess. Which secretly made him a prince. Which meant he would have to become a knight so he could rescue her, and bring her home so she could look after him, like mothers should.

Of course that was it. Stupid turnip-headed Borace Bakerson had no idea that he was talking to a secret prince when he said that Gunther didn't have a mother because no one would _want_ to be his mother. Because everyone had a mother, even Borace Bakerson.

_Laughter_

Jester lapped up the laughter of the crowd as he danced, his movements made all the more funny by the dragon costume he was wearing. The stadium was packed with students and parents alike, as it always was for home games. The Kippernia High Knights were one of the best teams in the competition, and their hometown was happy to show their pride. He had to put up with a lot of teasing in his role as mascot, but moments like these made it truly worth it. He executed what he felt was a particularly witty move in the direction of the opposing teams' mascot, and was rewarded with more laughter.

He paused briefly to scan the crowd until he spotted a familiar bright red head of hair, and grinned to himself. _Now for my grand finale,_ he thought, pretending to limber up. He'd been working on this routine for weeks, and he was going to make the most out of every second. He drew a deep breath and struck the opening pose, legs spread and arms raised as though to show off his muscles, when all the air was knocked from his as he was crash-tackled from the side.

He staggered, gasping, when another tackle sent him sprawling. The crowd was roaring now, loving every second as he was jumped on, his assailants grunting and growling in a display of excessive testosterone. The Knights, coached by Mr. Mackay, were not known for their restraint. Jester lay on the ground, grateful for the extra padding of his suit, and gasped for breath.

He eventually opened his eyes to find all the players gone . . . except one. Gunther Breech was wandering past, but paused to raise a scornful eyebrow in Jester's direction before jogging into the centre of the field. Jester rolled over and scrambled awkwardly to his feet, deliberately not looking into the crowd. _Pssh, jocks_.

_Blossoms_

There had been blossoms everywhere, on the day of their wedding, and Pepper still smiles fondly whenever she sees the delicate flowers return. There had been music and feasting, too, and friends and family. The village children ran and played through the castle gardens, and Dragon had mimicked their antics in the sky above.

Time had changed so much since that wonderful day. Music and feasting had grown rarer as the kingdom fell on harder times, and friends and family had grown up, or grown old or simply grown away. The children who ran and played now were hers, and Dragon had been gone for years, seeking family of his own. But the blossoms still came, simple and sweet and faithful, and love lingered too, just the same.

_Tears_

There were no tears. There were never tears, with Gunther. His father had never approved of him crying, and now it seemed he could not. But there _was_ pain. There would always be pain, and some days Jane felt sad enough to do all his crying for him.

_Remembering_

She sat by the fire in a small tavern, in a place with a name she didn't remember. There were few things she remembered these days. Certainly not names, although promises still haunted her. So many promises she had made, to so many friends. But all that was left of her friends and her promises were bones and dust and so many fading memories . . . And she was glad for the relief that came when she forgot that, too.


	5. Miscellany 4

**A/N: Standard disclaimers apply. Big big thanks to Kris, as always. *heart***

**First ficlet is highschool AU, the rest are set in canon.**

_Drowning_

Jane wanted to drown. Perhaps she could fall into a patch of quicksand, or she could get eaten by a giant squid. Anything, _anything_ but this. She stood with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring determinedly out to sea, while her classmates gaped, pointed and sniggered around her. She wanted to jump straight into the water and swim out until it reached her neck, but the teachers hadn't yet given permission for the kids to leave the car park, and so she was stuck, humiliated and burning with shame.

It was all her mother's fault. When Jane's old swimsuit had finally reached the point of no return, Adeline had decided that a shopping trip was in order. She had bought her daughter dresses, and cutesy tops that she wouldn't be caught dead in, but worst of all she had bought her a bikini.

In Jane's opinion, and she had been giving it a lot of thought since she found out about the school excursion to the beach, bikinis were for women with the means to fill them, not girls who were feeling awkward enough about their bodies without giving people an added excuse to stare, thank you _so_ much.

She had managed to keep her swim shorts, but had forgotten to pack a spare t-shirt to wear in the water, which led to her current, unenviable position.

Pepper, who had been trying to encourage Jane's femininity for years, was beaming with pride. And Jester, loyal, faithful Jester, was trying to distract the others with terrible jokes, which only made the whole situation more painful.

Jane groaned, hugging herself more tightly and scuffing at the gravel with sandalled feet. Her humiliation was almost complete. Now all she needed was . . .

"You look ridiculous."

. . . Gunther Breech.

Jane shot him an angry glare, but couldn't stop the colour in her cheeks from increasing by a few shades.

Gunther ignored her expression, smirking calmly before turning slightly aside and stripping off his grey shirt.

There were a few girlish squeals from the onlookers, and Jane had to admit she was grateful for her already-present blush. Then Gunther turned back and pulled his shirt down over her head, crossed arms and embarrassing swimwear, until the hem brushed against her mid-thighs. His smirk widened as he stepped back, and then began walking towards the beach.

Jane felt gratitude swell in her chest, but it was quickly nipped in the bud by Gunther's parting shot.

"Do us all a favour and wear a wetsuit next time."

_Dance_

"Shall we dance?"

He asks it to tease her, because he knows she'd rather die than be ladylike in front of him, but she accepts anyway. She accepts because when they dance, in the heat and the dust or the rain and the mud, when their swords meet and their arms ache, when the sweat rolls down his face and he _grins_, she knows he understands what it is to truly dance in a way no other partner ever could.

_Snow_

Jane thought snow was wonderful. Wet and cold and often annoying, but wonderful. It turned the world into a clean, blank page, wiping away everything wrong, if only for a little while. So when she woke early one morning to find the whole castle blanketed in white, she sprang out of bed, pulled on her clothes, and hurried downstairs.

Smoke curled from Pepper's kitchen fire, but the rest of the castle slept, and the yard was silent. After a furtive glance around, just to be sure, Jane spread her arms wide and twirled around and around until dizziness pulled her to her knees. She kneeled in the cold snow for several minutes, struggling to keep her giggles quiet, her breath misting in the air.

There would be snow fights today, and Lavinia would want to make snow angels, and Cuthbert would try to pour snow down his sister's back. Gunther would probably try the same trick with her, Jane supposed. Jester would sing fast-paced songs and encourage everyone to dance to keep warm. Pepper would make thick pea soup, Rake would fuss about the delicate plants in his garden, and Smithy would work steadily in his warm forge.

Dragon would curl up in his cave and want to sleep all day. The king would smile happily out the window but not actually step foot outside, and Queen Gwendolyn would stroll about the garden, smiling wistfully as she thought of her old home. The two older knights would stay in their quarters, playing their war games, and Jane's parents would sit by the fire in the great Hall, playing cards and chess by turns.

Jane stood, smiled, gathered a handful of snow and threw it high into the air, smiling and shivering as it fell in clumps on her head. Then she dusted herself off, and ran for the warm and dry kitchen. Oh, how she loved snow.

Unbeknownst to Jane, Jester, watching smiling from his tower room, shared her thought exactly.

_Breathe_

Sometimes, Gunther felt as though he could not breathe. When his father was making demands and the villagers were being unkind and he couldn't perfect his training. When Jane was doing everything perfectly and he couldn't seem to satisfy anyone, not even himself. When he had to work and train and clean up his father's messes. When it all sat on his shoulders, pushing him down until it was all just too much, until he was suffocating under the weight of it and he just had to, _had to_ escape, do something, anything to get away from it. And then everyone would look at him, superior in the knowledge that _they_ would never behave so foolishly, so selfishly. And then, suddenly, the breath would come back in a great, heaving rush, and he would have to lean against a wall somewhere and breathe and breathe and _not cry_, until he could stand and swagger and act as though nothing was wrong, and learn how to breathe for another day.


End file.
